Cardassian Sunrise
by The Girl from Shangri-La
Summary: The Enterprise encounters a strange vessel in Federation space.
1. Chapter 1

The ship was of a strangely organic looking design. A sandy kind of brown in colour, it's shape reminded Kirk of a bug. With a pair of pincers reaching out from a domed back, like an elongated scarab. And then, if he twisted his head another way, the ship sort of looked more like a fish. There was something haunting about the way it sat in the stillness of space, as though it were a thief lurking in the shadows.

"What are we looking at, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk asked, nodding at the view screen.

"I'm not _entirely_ certain, Captain," Sulu answered carefully, "I believe it's a Cardassian ship."

"Cardassian? Like the drink?" Kirk's eyebrows went up. Cardassian sunrises were lavender in colour and, in Kirk's opinion, offered almost as much kick as a Shirley Temple. Impressive, dangerous people did not order them. Serious bars did not serve them.

"A Cardassian vessel should not be this far within Federation space. It is highly unusual." Spock advised the captain, standing at the science station with his hands behind his back.

"Could they be in distress? They're not moving. Or transmitting anything." Kirk checked the readings report that came through on the tiny station next to his chair. He started to run through scenarios in his head. The Cardassian crew could all be dead, and then they'd have a mystery on their hands. And every time they had a mystery on their hands, some poor kid from ops was horribly killed. If he wasn't so grounded, he might develop a guilt complex about it.

"It is possible…" Spock conceded. Having elected to study at Starfleet rather than the Academy of Science, he had never been granted access to the Vulcan libraries. As such, his knowledge of the Cardassians was limited to what he had learned from Terran records. They offered very little information. And yet, some instinct - perhaps a fragment of advice heard long ago - told Spock that caution was in order.

"Uhura, hail them." Kirk ordered. It was his experience that people and drinks had a lot in common. You could tell a lot about a person from what kind of poison they knocked back.

"Aye, sir." Uhura nodded, giving Spock a quick glance. Wordlessly, he told her to be careful. That she should prepare herself for the possibility of a negative outcome. She opened the channel and connected the view screen signal, "This is the USS Enterprise of the United Federation of Planets. Do you require assistance?"

Silence. No response at all. Uhura waited the standard amount of time before shutting the channel down for security purposes.

"No reply, sir." She informed the captain.

Kirk got a slightly spooky feeling, but shook it off. He was dealing with the originators of the weakest drink in the Alpha Quadrant. It's not like they were listed as aggressors, and he'd never heard of anybody getting trouble form them. Hell, he'd never heard of anybody running into them. If it wasn't for the footnote in the contacts guide, he wouldn't even have realized they had a Union. They were the ones with the Union, right?

"Okay. Run a scan for life signs aboard the alien vessel." If they were all dead, it was important to figure it out promptly.

"There is a crew of four hundred life forms, Captain," Chekov reported, "The scans also show low shield capacity. But it is likely to be the configuration of their wessel."

"Well, why the hell are they in Federation space?" Kirk was puzzled, "Uhura, try to get a hold of them again. Give them the serious warning message. You know, the _business_ one."

"Unknown Vessel," She addressed the ship with stern tones, "You are within Federation borders. Identify yourself."

Uhura shook her head. Still no reply.

"Maybe their communications system has been destroyed," Chekov offered, "I have no readings on any internal systems. And our sensors cannot penetrate several areas of the ship…"

But before he could explain the rest of his theory, the view screen jumped with a quick flicker. And the bridge of the mysterious ship appeared before them.

The Cardassians were not what Kirk had been picturing. He wasn't certain what he'd expected, exactly, but he knew it what he was looking at wasn't it. Their bridge wrapped around in layers, like the inside of a seashell. Except it looked cold and black. Several officers stood at posts, but were not operating them. They waited and watched the Enterprise.

In the middle of everything sat their captain, or commander. Like all the others, his skin was grey and he had what appeared to be bone ridges protruding from the sides of his neck, and the center of his forehead and chest. He also seemed to have scales around certain areas. There was a definite reptilian quality, not only to his appearance but his demeanour. He held his shoulders low, and his chin high. His eyes were thoughtful and patient, like a crocodile's. They undermined the polite smile that curled his lips.

"Greetings, USS Enterprise," He said calmly, "I am Gul Manon of the Cardassian Union vessel Kornaire. Forgive our inability to respond to your attempts at hailing us. We were on a scouting mission when we were pulled through an anomaly. It has caused malfunctions in many of our systems, including our sensors. We were not aware that we had entered into Federation space. I apologize for the trespass."

Chekov gave Sulu an _I told you so _kind of look_. _Sulu flashed him back a wary expression. That explanation sounded distinctly like bullshit to him.

It sounded distinctly like bullshit to Captain Kirk as well, but there wasn't much he could do about it. The ship wasn't posing any immediate threat to the Enterprise or anything else that belonged to the Federation. It was just sitting there. And that added up with the story, because if they'd found a safe quiet place they could kick back and repair everything. But the whole thing seemed pretty shady.

"I'm sorry to hear you've had such trouble," Kirk said evenly, "We could send over some engineers to assist you with repairs…"

"That is quite alright," Manon put his hand up as he cut him off, "Our technology differs greatly from your own. Perhaps you could send us a starchart of the region, however. We are very far from home. I do not believe our cartographers have even entered this system."

"We can provide you with a direct heading that will return you to Cardassian space." Spock said, without being asked. It wasn't his intention to undermine the captain, but he didn't want to be onboard the ship that accidentally turned maps over to invading forces.

"Even better." The Cardassian's smile widened.

"How long do you estimate repairs on your vessel to take?" Kirk asked. The Enterprise was due at Centaurus, but they had about half a day to play with.

Gul Manon looked over his shoulder at one of his officers. His neck twisted like a snake, and Kirk was surprised at how flexible the ridges seemed to be. Maybe they were cartilage, not bone.

"Seventeen hours." The officer answered sharply.

"Then we'll wait with you. In case anything goes wrong."

"How kind of you. We appreciate your helpfulness." Manon said swiftly, and the view screen reverted to showing stars and space and the Cardassian ship.

Kirk let out a grateful sigh. He'd practically been holding his breath the entire time. He'd only been a captain for six months, he didn't need to start wars.

"Hard to believe those guys invented the Cardassian sunrise." He mumbled, mostly to himself.

"Captain," Spock began in correcting tones, "The Cardassian sunrise was invented in Philadelphia by an Andorian bartender. It is unlikely that an actual Cardassian has ever consumed the beverage."

"Really?" Kirk seemed surprised, "Well then, what the hell do those guys drink?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't like it." Sulu decided, shaking his head. He was sitting at his usual table in the mess hall with Chekov. It was their first break since coming across the Kornaire, and he had spent the entire time brooding about the incident, eager to get back to the bridge.

"I told you to order the sandwich," Chekov sighed, shaking his head. He was joking, but Sulu didn't seem to notice, "Not funny?"

"Huh?" Sulu snapped out of his thoughts, "Sorry."

"You are missing my jokes! The captain knows what he is doing, everything will be fine. The lizard-men are not hostile to us." Chekov shook his head grumpily. He looked around and noticed that everyone else in the mess hall seemed just as concerned as Sulu. What was the big deal?

"I don't like it." Scotty announced, placing his tray on the table and sitting down with the pair.

"I don't like it either." Sulu nodded.

"Would someone _please_ be telling me what is not to like?" The fresh-faced ensign was getting exasperated. It was like everyone was purposefully not letting him in on an important secret.

"Alright, let's break this down," Scotty said, taking some pity on the boy, "We're close to the edges of Federation space, but not close enough to really call it being close. So it's not so close somebody could just wander in by mistake. Would ya say that's fair?"

"I don't know. I did not understand what you said." Chekov confessed, looking troubled.

"The Cardassians shouldn't be this far in. Even if they did get lost. It doesn't add up." Sulu translated.

"Maybe the anomaly they passed through relocated their ship, and they didn't realize it because their sensors were disrupted." Chekov concluded cheerfully.

"Yer not a naturally suspicious lad, are ya?" Scotty patted the kid's shoulder sympathetically.

"Chekov. Think about it. Apart from the Federation, the Cardassian Union is the biggest political structure in the Alpha Quadrant." Sulu continued to explain.

"Really? I did not know that." Chekov seemed interested.

"It's true. I looked it up an hour ago," Sulu nodded, "They control the Chin'toka system, the Kelrabi system, the Dameron system and a few others. They've got five planets of their own, too. And they're expanding towards the Gamma Quadrant."

"Did you find out anything else about 'em?" Scotty wanted to know.

"We don't know much else about them. They usually keep to themselves." Sulu explained.

"I could not tell much from my scans. They have some technology that allows them to ewade in-depth readings." Chekov added. The trio sat in contemplative silence for a long time, mulling the situation over. A definite chink had been made in Chekov's optimistic armour. He was wondering how the Cardassians obtained their territory. If they signed peaceful accords like the Federation did, or if they had other methods.

"Well…" Dr. McCoy slid into the seat across from Scotty and leaned into the back of the chair, "I don't like it."

"Nobody likes it." Chekov informed him.

* * *

Kirk was watching the motionless ship on the view screen. He'd been staring it down on and off for the last four hours. It just sat there. The Enterprise had received no communications since the first, but Kirk had ordered Uhura to make contact again at the five hour mark. Time was seeming to crawl along.

"Sir…" Uhura said without looking up from her station, "They're sending a signal to Cardassian space."

"It is logical to assume that they would wish to contact their people if their story is truthful," Spock nodded slightly, "However, it is also logical that they would wish to do so if they were deceiving us."

"Thanks, Spock. That was really helpful. Very constructive." Kirk said sarcastically.

"Captain," Spock said a little quickly, "May I discuss a matter with you in private?"

"Now? I'm in the middle of… of… staring at the enemy! Uh, potential enemy. Maybe. They seem pretty damn shifty to me."

"I assure you, the topic is relevant." Spock replied, raising an eyebrow at Kirk. It was inappropriate for a Starfleet captain to pass such insubstantial judgements. And yet, Spock was willing to let it slide. The Cardassians were pretty damn shifty. Logically speaking.

Kirk led Spock into the briefing room and sat unceremoniously in the head chair; compulsively, he spun around in it while Spock took his own seat.

"What's on your mind?" Kirk asked with his best version of an _I'm a captain who listens _smile.

"There is a possibility that the Cardassian vessel is on a scouting mission." Spock said.

There was a pause.

"Yeah. That's what they told us." Kirk said slowly. Was this it? Why did they have to leave the bridge?

"It is likely that they are investigating the strength of the Federation border, if not the strength of the Federation itself," Spock elaborated, "The destruction of Vulcan has weakened our defences considerably. Coupled with the devastation the Narada incident caused our fleet, it is logical to consider ourselves… an interesting subject."

"Wait. Are you trying to say you think these guys are trying to figure out if they can take over the Federation? Like the whole thing?" Now Kirk was interested.

"As I said before, it is possible that the Kornaire is on a scouting mission. I am under the impression that the Cardassians would not begin an attempt to seize power if they were not confident in their ability to succeed." Spock had no necessarily logical reason for this impression. He was still operating under the assumption that he could not currently recall where he had received the relevant information. Because Vulcans do not have hunches.

"Captain?" Uhura's voice said over the com, and her face appeared on a small three-sided screen in the center of the table, "The Cardassians have requested that you contact them."

"Really? Did they say why?" Kirk was very surprised. If he were planning to invade the Federation, he'd try to talk to himself as little as possible. Or rather, he'd avoid contact with Federation captains. Maybe Spock was wrong. Maybe the Cardassians were up to something else.

"No sir. But they were very polite." Uhura answered uneasily.

"Polite?" Spock enquired.

"That's right. Practically charming."

"Fascinating."


	3. Chapter 3

Kirk was carefully considering the conversation that had just transpired between himself and Gul Manon. Somehow or another, he had managed to get himself invited aboard the Kornaire for dinner. And he had be instructed to allow himself whatever security measure he deemed necessary in order to fully enjoy his visit. He had also been instructed to bring guests.

Now, admittedly, Kirk was not an evil genius. But it did occur to him that if he was on a covert scouting mission to assess whether or not taking over half a quadrant was a good idea, he'd go about things a little differently. Spock's theory was looking less and less plausible. And yet, it was obvious that _something_ was going on. So Kirk had accepted the invitation, in the hopes that Gul Manon would detail his sinister plan while he passed the salt. Or whatever his people used to season things.

And in the event that something went wrong, Kirk had decided to bring the guy with three-times everybody else's strength and the doctor. He seemed to be getting the hang of this captain business.

"Thanks for tagging along, Bones." Kirk said cheerfully, hopping onto the transporter pad. Spock had wordlessly taken his place, an equipment bag over his shoulder.

"No problem," McCoy grumbled, "Why would anybody _mind_ having their god damn atoms scattered apart and yanked back together just so they can keep you company at an awkward dinner party? Seems like a fine idea to me."

"Doctor," Spock replied, "Your presence is not necessary. My training as a science officer more than compensates for any skills you might contribute to this mission."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" Bones demanded.

"Energize." Kirk told the crewman operating the transporter station, and the trio disappeared in a swirl of white molecules.

When they reappeared, they were onboard the Kornaire. The room appeared as cold and as black as the bridge had seemed on the view screen. The lighting had a harsh whiteness to it, casting grey shadows on the floors. But the air somehow did not seem to suit the rest of the mood. It was warm and sultry. It reminded McCoy of Savannah in the summertime. It reminded Spock that Vulcans are naturally preferential towards dry climates.

Waiting for them were two Cardassian officers, standing by a console that no doubt controlled the transporter on their end. They seemed like any other starship officers who had been ordered to greet an informal diplomatic party. Bored and eager to get the whole thing over with.

"Welcome aboard." One of them said with no particularly noticeable disdain.

"Thanks." Kirk said, trying to hide his unmerited distrust.

"Perhaps you would enjoy a tour of the ship?" The other officer offered.

Kirk wondered if he would. He looked to Spock, whose face offered no opinion. Then he looked to Bones who shrugged indifferently. It became incredibly obvious that he'd brought the wrong people.

"Okay. Show us around." The captain answered. Spock's bag was full of phasers, so if anything went wrong they could shoot their way out. It was Plan B. Odd, considering that Kirk had neglected to outline a Plan A.

The ship seemed to have a good deal of personality, despite the away team's misgivings about their hosts. The corridors were mostly empty, but it seemed common enough for doors to merely be left open. Friendly, easy-going conversations that had nothing to do with Kirk and his officers floated on the air. Spock seemed to be listening more to these conversations than to the tour itself. Why that was, Kirk couldn't say. Every snippet that caught his ear was about somebody's kids or a terrible first date or equally mundane subjects. Nobody was discussing why they'd lied to the Federation ship.

"In many ways, you are not yet as advanced as the Federation." Spock observed as the Cardassian officer explained the communications system.

"Is that so?" The Cardassian seemed more intrigued than offended.

"Indeed." Spock answered but offered no elaboration as to why.

He seemed to be right, though. Many of the ship's systems seemed to be slightly behind the Enterprise, from what Kirk could gather. But he figured that it wasn't necessarily fair to call the Kornaire less advanced. All they were being shown was what the Cardassians were willing to show them. Besides, he didn't know what they valued, or what the purpose of the ship was. For instance, a Klingon vessel's interest was in her shields and weapons; therefore, she was less concerned with scientific instruments.

Kirk wondered what the Cardassian Union's interests were.

"Glinn Nomar?" A voice said over the com panel they were standing next to. The officer giving them the tour pressed down on a touch screen.

"Yes?" He answered, with a sharpness under his voice.

"They are ready in the wardroom." The voice answered him, and there was a beep as the system shut off. It was different from the beeps aboard the Enterprise, there was a low and hollow quality to the sound.

"I'll escort you to the Gul's table. Please forgive the interruption of the tour. Perhaps when your meal is finished, it can be arranged for you to visit our engine room. Though our engineer may disapprove. She has many repairs to make." The officer explained and began to lead the trio down a different corridor.

The closer and closer they drew to the bridge, the quieter the ship became. The casual conversations fell away to the sounds of diligent typing at computer stations. The only voices heard were giving simple yes or no answers to very direct questions. And the overall politeness increased quite noticeably. Everyone they passed wore the same sort of smile and half-nodded the same style of greeting. It reminded Kirk of a fancy hotel where all of the employees hated the guests.

They passed through the bridge itself, which was as still and calm as a clear day. Everyone there seemed to watch Kirk, McCoy and Spock with an evenness that made Kirk uneasy. Nobody was saying anything. Nobody was working. It occurred to him that he had never witnessed a Cardassian operating any major systems. On the other side of the bridge was a door that opened automatically, but for some reason the threshold was several inches off of the ground. Their escort stepped up and over it without so much as a glance down.

Waiting inside was Gul Manon, standing at the head of a table covered with… food? Kirk refrained from pulling any faces when he saw it. Most of it seemed to be various samplings of swamp. In bowls. The bowls were kind of pretty, though.

"Welcome aboard, Captain Kirk. It delights me that you have accepted our invitation." Manon smiled his effortless smile.

"No problem," Kirk replied with a suspicious sort of smile, "This is my first officer, Mr. Spock. And Dr. McCoy."

"Mr. Spock, I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your homeworld. All of Cardassia was pained to hear of such a great tragedy." Manon said kindly to Spock. The strange thing was how genuine the statement was. Apart from everything else he had said, he really seemed to mean it.

"Thank you." Spock said coldly.

"Please! Sit down!" The gul cheerfully indicated the chairs around the table and the trio took their seats.

The conversation revolved mostly around the food. Which was just as disgusting as it looked. Spock had considerately been given a vegetarian option that was _the most _disgusting thing on the table. None of it moved, though, and the texture was surprisingly palatable. But the taste was almost unbearable. Gul Manon was a good sport about it, explaining that he had no idea what humans ate and that they could simply remember it as a cultural experience. He mentioned that several species under Union rule had difficulties appreciating Cardassian cuisine. Kirk actually found the conversation interesting.

But he made an executive decision to spare his team any traumas a dessert course might bring.

"No dessert? It's never quite as powerful as the meal itself. You might like it." Manon tried to tempt them.

"I'm watching my waistline." Kirk answered him dryly.

"Well, you must at least indulge me by sharing a bottle of kanar," The Cardassian rose from the table and made his way to the side of the room. He retrieved four glasses and a twisted glass bottle filled with a thick, black liquid, "It takes some getting used to as well, but it has it's own distinctive achievement that makes it worth the trouble."

"What's that?" McCoy asked.

"It gets you drunk." Gul Manon smiled, putting the glasses on the table and filling them.

"Sounds good to me," The doctor decided as the Cardassian handed him his glass, "What's it made from?"

"Nothing that you'd want to hear about." Manon chuckled and drained his entire glass in one go. He poured himself another.

"Bottoms up." Kirk shrugged and drank his as well. He'd been itching for a chance to try their booze. The thickness of the liquid seemed to be it's most disgusting aspect. It had a strange flavour, smoky and sweet at the same time. With an after taste of what Kirk could only mentally identify as rancid oyster sauce. He found himself wishing that he had something to wash his drink down with.

"Oh, that's pretty damn disgusting…" McCoy blurted, wishing he hadn't drank his so slowly. Gul Manon smiled as he sipped his second glass.

"I warned you," He said, then turned to Spock, "Not thirsty?"

"I am on duty." Spock explained.

"Suit yourself," Manon shrugged, "I don't suppose it matters all that much." The Cardassian raised his hand from underneath the tabletop. He was holding a phaser.

Kirk reacted quickly and sprang to his feet, but it was too late. A thin red beam struck Spock in the center of the chest, knocking him backwards out of his chair.

"What… what are you doing?" Kirk demanded, the room beginning to spin around him. Everything blurred, and he could feel his mind slipping away.

"It really is a shame when a good plan goes under appreciated," Manon sighed, and walked over to Spock, "The Cardassian immune system is a marvellous thing. Did you know, for instance, that any poisons that attack the nervous system have no effect on me? I could drink that whole bottle and never feel a thing. Except a good buzz, of course."

McCoy stumbled from his seat, coughing and clutching at his chest.

"You cold-blooded… son of a…" He tried to lunge at Manon angrily, but all he accomplished was falling in an unconscious heap on the floor.

Kirk felt dizzy as the room went entirely black.


	4. Chapter 4

Before Kirk had left for the Kornaire, he had assigned the bridge to Mr. Scott. Nobody was more surprised about the choice than Scotty himself. He had gently reminded the captain that engineering was full of delicate instruments that he couldn't just abandon. In return, the captain had reminded him that they were currently sitting absolutely still. Scotty had tried to convince Kirk that sitting still was the most difficult thing a ship could do, but he couldn't get through it all without laughing. Reluctantly he had accepted the temporary post and made his way to the bridge.

"How much longer do ya think they'll be over there?" He asked nobody in particular, slumped forward in the command chair. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to sit in it, but nobody had made a fuss.

"Dunno." Sulu answered helpfully, spinning his chair around to face the back of the bridge. On the other side of console, Chekov appeared to be taking a nap. Scotty, in his wisdom as acting captain, had decided not to wake him up.

"It's an informal conference," Uhura explained, getting a little annoyed with them, "It can take anywhere from half an hour to half a day. It probably won't be too much longer, though."

"Good," Scotty decided, "Ah don't like it up here. It's chilly."

Chekov's station began to beep with great insistency. Somewhat dazedly, he pulled his head forward and examined the readings report. His eyes went wide with panic.

"Mr… Captain… Scotty!" He gasped. His frantic expressions caused Sulu to spin back around and begin activating flight control systems in preparation for emergency procedures.

"What's it? What's wrong?" Scotty sat up, panic thick in his voice.

"The Cardassian wessel! It's shields are at one-hundred and fifty percent their possible capacity, and they are aiming their weapons systems at us! Scans indicate weapons include phaser cannons and… quantum torpedoes, sir…" Chekov said in mystified disbelief.

"_Quantum_ torpedoes? What the devil are _quantum_ torpedoes?"

"A theory." Chekov answered gravely, shaking his head. He could hardly believe it, but there was no doubt in his mind what he was looking at.

"They're aiming a theory at us?" Scotty was a little bit puzzled.

"They are four times as powerful as photon torpedoes. The Federation has made many attempts to dewelop them, but to no success. They are supposed to be a myth. Like unicorn!"

"I've never heard of them." Sulu added, calling up readings on the Kornaire's weapon systems so that he could examine them personally. He began to diligently examine them, hoping sincerely that Chekov had made some kind of mistake.

"Do we still have vital signs and body readings for Captain Kirk?" Scotty asked.

"Yes…" Chekov said carefully, "And Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy."

"But?" Scotty asked.

An uneasy silence fell upon the bridge.

"It could still mean that they're dead." Uhura said softly, the weight of the possibility crushing against her. She looked at the Cardassian ship that sat silently on the view screen with worry and loathing.

"If the Cardassians were able to disguise their weapons and their shields so thoroughly, it might no be such a stretch to presume that could also send out false readings. Like vital signs." Sulu explained carefully, keeping his head down.

"Shields up. Yellow alert. Lock photon cannons one, two and three onto the Cardassian vessel," Scotty decided, "Lt. Uhura, try to open a channel to the Kornaire. I'm not about to fire on them if we've still got three men alive and onboard."

"Aye sir," Uhura answered him, recovering her determination, "Contacting the Kornaire."

Nobody was expecting it when the attempt went through and the alien bridge appeared once again on the Enterprise's view screen. Gul Manon seemed triumphant, arrogant. It fit him better than his excessively courteous personae.

"I suppose you've noticed the torpedoes," He smiled, "We're very pleased with them. They do wonderful work. One direct hit to your shields and they'll be devastated. Then another torpedo will collide with your hull, killing whoever happens to be nearest to it's point of impact and crippling your vessel. Then the third will simply put you out of your misery. And we won't even have to press the button for the fourth."

"What do you want?" Scotty asked bravely, sitting back in the command chair and keeping his face as stern as stone.

"First, allow you to tell me what I _don't_ want," Manon replied smugly, "I don't want to fire upon your ship. I don't want Mr. Spock to die of his injuries. I don't want to torture your captain or execute your doctor. I'd even go so far as saying that I don't want them onboard this ship at all.

"What I do want is simple. I require all of your computer's information. From advanced ship schematics to the most basic children's learning guide."

"Our database in enormous! It could take days to download it all!" Scotty exclaimed.

"I don't think you quite understand. We will first kill the three members of your crew that we are currently holding hostage. And then we will kill you. It's terribly inconvenient, but I'm willing to make some personal sacrifices." Manon sighed, seemingly bored with Scotty's approach to the situation.

"Destroying this ship could begin a war with the Federation…" Scotty warned.

"Ah-hah. Only if the Federation knows that we destroyed you. And they won't. Believe me when I tell you, we've thought of everything. I'll give you a few moments to consider all of this, shall I?" Manon smiled and suddenly disappeared from the view screen.

Scotty let out a troubled sigh and rubbed his brow. Everybody on the bridge was staring at him. Waiting for him to give orders and make decisions like a captain. But he wasn't a captain, he was an engineer. The best damn engineer in all of Starfleet, but that hardly qualified him for hostage negotiations.

"Good job, Scotty." Sulu said quietly. He meant it.

Scotty looked up at the faces of his crewmates. They were ready to stand behind him and the difficult decision he was about to make. Just as nervous and uncertain, but confident in him. Confident in each other. Ready to do the things it took to save the ship and the doctor and the Vulcan and the captain.

"Lt. Uhura, code a message to Starfleet command. Give them our location and detail the encounter with the Cardassian vessel." Was Scotty's first order. He nodded to himself, considering his next move.

"Aye, sir." Uhura replied somewhat shakily. _I don't want Mr. Spock to die of his injuries_. It rang in her ears and echoed over everything else. She began preparing for the long-range communication relay.

"Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov. I hope the both ya know a wee bit about the Iliad…"

"Yes sir, I do." Sulu answered, a wide smile spreading across his face. But Chekov seemed to be out of the loop. Apparently in his hurry to learn everything he could about starships, he had neglected to read his classical literature. Apart from his Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, naturally.

"Good man. Fill young Pavel in on his Greek history while ye prepare for the data transfer."

"Mr. Scott…" Uhura said tentatively, "I can't access any of our subspace communication stations. There must be a dampening barrier around the Enterprise. They've been setting it up for hours and we didn't even notice."

"Bloody hell. Alright, I guess all I can do is supplement the captain's log and hope they don't blow us to smithereens," Scotty concluded, "What can you give me, Mr. Sulu?"

"Well…" Sulu seemed a little hesitant.

"With their adwanced sensor technology, we must be wery, wery careful which wirus we select." Chekov explained.

"If you can buy us a few hours, we might be able to set it up. There's no way to guarantee that they wouldn't detect any attempts at sabotage." Sulu said thoughtfully.

"I cannae think of another option. We'll have to do what we can do and take the risk," Scotty answered him and accessed the com system from the chair, "This is Acting Captain Scott. Prepare the shuttle bays for emergency evacuation procedures and stand by."

"Aye sir." A voice replied, sounding nervous and surprised.

Scotty wanted to make certain that he saved as many lives as he could. Perhaps the safer option would be to give the Cardassians what they wanted, without resistance. But while that might save the lives of the crew of the Enterprise, it could very well damn the entire Federation.

"Mr. Scott, the Kornaire is hailing us." Uhura announced.

"On screen." Scotty sighed and swallowed his nerves.

"Have you arrived at a decision yet?" Manon asked. Instead of his usual position of sitting in the command chair, he was standing at a station of some kind on one of the lower balcony levels. He was typing while he spoke, as if Mr. Scott was merely an afterthought to everything he was doing that day.

"Ya say Mr. Spock is injured," Scotty answered him, "If you return him to our ship and allow us to give him medical treatment, we'd consider it an act of good faith."

"No," Manon answered simply, "We will most definitely be holding on to Mr. Spock. Vulcans are exceptionally rare these days. Perhaps you've heard. If you begin the information transfer, I assure you we will take steps to make certain he doesn't die under our care. We wouldn't want a diplomatic incident on our hands, would we?"


	5. Chapter 5

Kirk blinked his blurry vision into focus, and found himself staring into a bright white light. Everything felt numb. Weak. He rolled his heavy head to the side, and the light disappeared. It was replaced with a heavy darkness. A black wall leading down to a grey floor. Kirk was laying on the floor.

Slowly, and with much effort, he managed to sit up. He noticed that he had no control over his right arm. It hung limp and dead. He used his left hand to poke his right hand, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel his leg either.

"Whatever they gave us…" McCoy's voice said from somewhere outside Kirk's vision, "Is wearing off… Probably a drug… more than a poison…" His voice was slow and mumbling, as though he couldn't quite get his mouth open. He sounded terrible.

"Might have… administered an antidote… while we were out of it…"

"Mm?" Was all Kirk could manage at the time. He swung his head around, trying to figure out where Bones actually was. He neck seemed to quit on him, and his head lolled down suddenly. He could see an empty expanse of floor that led to another cell on the other side of the detention center. On the floor of that cell lay something that was probably Spock. It seemed to be wearing a blue shirt.

"Behind ya." McCoy instructed Kirk helpfully, and the young captain managed with great effort to turn himself around to face the doctor.

Bones was sitting on of one of two low-hovering beds. Both of them looked thin and uncomfortable. His head was resting against the wall and one of his eyes was only half open. Kirk guessed that the numbness in his limbs was in McCoy's face. He'd looked worse, though.

"Mm mph?" Kirk tried to ask how long Bones had been awake as he pushed up with his left side and stumbled to a half-standing position. His weak ankle dragged and twisted behind him.

"Careful now." McCoy advised as Kirk hobbled over and flopped down on the second bed.

"How…lo…ng?" Kirk mumbled weakly.

Bones thought for a minute.

"You're gonna need to be more specific." He explained, using up a little more energy than he had. The possibilities were endless. Kirk could be asking how long it would be until the Cardassians came back, how long it would take for him to be able to feel his face, how long since they'd been poisoned. And more.

"You… awake…" Kirk clarified.

"An hour," McCoy said slowly and with obvious effort, "Or thereabouts."

When he'd first woken up, McCoy had only been able to open one of his eyes and twitch a finger. He had been thrown down onto his side when they were placed in the cells, and he had stayed there, zombified, for twenty minutes. The only thing he could see was the door to the detention area. A Cardassian guard came in every ten minutes to check on the prisoners. On one visit, the guard ran a scan of Spock. That meant that the hobgoblin was still alive. No need to run a scan on a dead body once you knew it was dead. And there wouldn't have been much mystery about what had killed him.

Like clockwork, the sound of the main door filled the detention area and footsteps approached the archway that led into their cell. It sounded like more than one person this time, though. A familiar face appeared at the doorway. It was Glinn Nomar, the officer who had given them their tour of the Kornaire. He had checked in once before, when McCoy was still pretty out of it.

"Hello, Doctor," Nomar said stiffly, "Are you able to speak properly yet?"

"Gettin' there."

"And the captain has been moved. Did you place him there?"

"Nope. He got up and walked." McCoy seemed to stall a bit after saying this and his head rolled to the left a little. But he managed to wear a proud sort of smile.

As if to prove the doctor's statements true, Kirk pushed himself up off of the bed and began limping towards the door. Nomar seemed unconcerned. He turned away to face a computer panel and typed something in. A low beep sounded, and two other Cardassian officers walked into Spock's cell. They lifted him up rather unceremoniously, one taking his head and the other his feet, and began to leave.

"Where…are…taking…?" Kirk tried to ask.

The Cardassians ignored him entirely.

Kirk hurried as fast as he could to follow them, to demand to know where they were taking his first officer and what their intentions were. As soon as he got to the doorway that led into the corridor between the cells, he was overcome by a startling amount of pain. It was like a surge of electricity pushing against his entire body, and it knocked him backwards onto the floor. His skin felt hot and sore, like a fresh sunburn.

"Jim, no! That's a force field!" McCoy finally managed to spit out after a long delay.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mr. Scott, the Cardassians have opened a one-way transference channel." Uhura announced, her voice sharp and angry. Scotty could feel her disapproving looks burning into the back of his skull, but he didn't know why. She'd been there when he had specifically attempted to bargain for Spock's safe return to the Enterprise. Did she think he'd done that for fun?

Maybe she had a right to be angry with him. After all, Spock was still over there dying.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Scotty looked over his shoulder at her. She was definitely pissed off.

"Alright, Scotty," Sulu said with some hesitancy, "I think we've got it figured out…"

"If we all die a horrible death, I would like all of us to blame Mr. Sulu and not me." Chekov added with a matter-of-fact nod.

"Duly noted, Ensign," Scotty smiled a small smile, "Mr. Sulu, what have ya got for me?"

"We'll send it over in three parts. That way we _might_ be able to avoid detection - if they scan each individual part, it'll look like overflow from our bridge databanks. Reasonable when you're asking for such an enormous transfer. The first two are the necessary halves of the virus, and once they make their way over to the Cardassian vessel, they'll stay independent. Until we send the third part." Sulu explained.

"Oh! The third part'll activate subroutines within our information transfer!" Scotty snapped his fingers as he put it all together.

"That's right," Sulu nodded proudly, "It both unites and triggers the virus. The only thing we need to decide is what system to attack."

"How about everything?" Acting Captain Scott suggested, "Start with those damn quantum torpedoes and work our way down. Take shields next, so we can beam our people out of there, knock out sensors. Shut down engines to keep 'em still. Everything but life support and the kitchen sink."

"That would mean attacking the bridge systems!" Chekov announced, shaking his head, "We will get caught before we have a chance to send the third upsurge!"

"Aye, _if_ we attack their bridge systems," Scotty said slowly, "But there's not a starship that size that won't have an engineering override system."

"Of course!" Chekov cheered.

"Scotty! That's genius!" Sulu said brightly, as he and Chekov began making preparations.

"Lt. Uhura, begin information transfer to the Cardassian vessel," Scotty ordered, "Let's give 'em the alphabet first and work our way up from there."

* * *

Gul Manon was watching as the Kornaire's chief medical officer ran a dermal regenerator over the last of Spock's phaser burns. Manon couldn't help but wonder about the nature of Federation medical technology, was it more advanced or less advanced than what the Cardassians had? He remembered capturing a Klingon vessel that had made its way into Union space several years ago. Their physicians seemed to be more equipped for breaking bones than setting them. Perhaps he would ask Dr. McCoy about it. Then again, in a few hours time he'd be able to read anything he wanted to about the Enterprise.

"Well, you certainly did shoot him. Didn't you?" The Cardassian doctor said dryly, as he finished mending the Vulcan, "I don't suppose they told you about stun functions when you joined the service?"

"It _was_ set to stun, Doctor," Manon informed him, "If I were a medical man, I would pride myself on being able to recognize such things."

"Then you must've shot him with a cannon. But he will be fine." The doctor noted, and began putting away his equipment.

Spock lay motionless on the biobed, a cuff around his ankle that would keep him in the medical bay. Unless he found himself with a sudden desire to submit to a series of painful electrical shocks. Then he could wander around all he liked.

"Is he fit to be tortured?" Manon asked the doctor.

"In a few hours. He ought to take it easy for now. You hit him in a lung. Vulcans keep them a little lower than we do, you know."

Spock's eyes fluttered open. He sat up and began to take in the appearance of the room. More brightly lit than the other areas of the ship, with grey stations instead of black and signs of recent upgrades. It seemed to be the most calming environment the ship provided. By Vulcan standards anyway. It was entirely possible that the Cardassians found their medical bay to be downright unnerving. Spock continued to look around, until his eyes fell upon Gul Manon. Leaning against a counter as though he were bored.

"Why did you shoot me?" Spock asked, getting right down to the point.

"Because you weren't going to drink the poison." Manon told him. There was a cold, succinctness to his statement. If it wasn't so morally apprehensible, it would have been commendably simplistic logic. Spock had no choice but to accept the answer.

"Where is Captain Kirk?"

"With Dr. McCoy, of course."

Spock paused and evaluated the gul. He was allowing his prisoner to lead the conversation. It was likely that he was waiting for Spock to inadvertently reveal things. The questions Spock chose to ask were providing Manon with the answers he was seeking.

"You require us alive." Spock decided, taking what he could from the small amounts of information being offered to him.

"Perhaps it is a requirement. Perhaps it's my merciful nature. Captain Kirk would not kill a prisoner unless it was absolutely necessary."

Not a question. A statement of fact. A guess? Or had Manon spoken with Kirk while Spock was unconscious? It was possible. Kirk would not have given away any information that would endanger his crew. He likely would have spat on the Cardassian and favoured the use of gratuitous profanity. However, Manon may have received his information from Dr. McCoy. In which case, everybody was doomed.

"I am interested in your experience aboard the Narada. If you would be so kind as to answer my questions…"

"I will not." Spock said abruptly. He had to gain some leverage, get the upper hand somehow.

"If you don't, I'll simply torture your companions until you speak to me." Manon seemed uninterested and bored with Spock's attitude. Vulcans sucked all of the fun out of interrogations.

"That would be an illogical course of action. I am more concerned with the preservation of Federation secrets than the physical and mental health of two officers. You may kill them. And I will not divulge the information you desire. I have noticed by the conversations of your crewmen that you hold emotional relationships in high esteem. I have no similar flaw."

"And if I torture _you_?"

"I am Vulcan. I will endure." Spock answered.

Manon seemed to be considering this as he looked absently at a counter across the room.

Spock slowed his breathing. He thought of the air molecules passing through his nose and throat and filling his lungs. His injured lungs. Regardless of the physical discomfort, he allowed his mind to drift deeper and deeper into the measured breaths. A simple exercise but effective.

"I suppose that's the admirable thing about Vulcans," Manon was saying, his voice a thousand miles away as far as Spock was concerned, "Such concentration. The ability to control the mind so diligently must be quite an advantage…"

Spock drifted further and further away from the Cardassian and his threats. He existed solely within himself, sitting in his childhood bedroom. The familiar smell of plomeek soup drifting up the stairs, his mother's wind chimes tapping against each other in the gentle spring breeze.

Manon slammed his hands against the countertop, with a ferociously loud slap.

The sudden and unexpected sound brutally tore Spock from the depths of meditation.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?" Manon smiled politely.


	7. Chapter 7

McCoy had bitched and moaned and made valid arguments until the Cardassians gave him his medical bag so that he could examine Kirk. Had he not been completely numb on one side and crispier than a piece of bacon, Kirk would have used the opportunity to beat up the guards and try to escape. As it stood, the force field went down, they handed McCoy his gear and they left.

"Bones…" Kirk groaned with disappointment, "You coulda… taken them…"

"Taken them?" McCoy asked sceptically, running a tricorder scan, "Jim, there were three of 'em. They had phasers. I still can't feel anything above my elbows. Those aren't the kind of odds I like." He closed the tricorder and reached into his bag for his hypospray, so he could shoot the captain up with pain killers.

Kirk eyed the medical bag with a curious expression as McCoy injected the anesthizine into his neck. He seemed to be hatching a plan.

"Hey, you got… a laser scalpel… in there?" He asked, reaching for the bag.

"Yes." McCoy answered, moving the bag from Kirk's reach. The last thing he needed was the damn fool rummaging around and accidentally cutting his fingers off.

"And… a bicorder?" Kirk let himself relax, and let Bones take the bag away from him.

"Yep. In case the tricorder gets scrambled. But, listen, now's not the best time for supply inventory." McCoy said. He scanned the captain's head to see if the buzz from the force field had addled his brain. Or maybe he was having an allergic reaction to the poisoned kanar. But the scans offered no evidence of the captain having a medical excuse for any loopy behaviour.

"Bones, if you follow my instructions… I can tell you how to build… a force field disruptor out of… the junk in your purse…"

"Dammit! It's not a purse! It's an equipment bag! How many goddamn times do I have to…" McCoy began to rant, then replayed Kirk's statement in his head, "Wait. A force field disruptor?"

"That's right… Take out… the bicorder…"

* * *

"Why would you have any interest in the Narada?" Spock asked, after several more refusals to talk. He had no idea that he was in the casual stages of a Cardassian interrogation. How lucky he was that nobody had busted out the four lights or the buckets. But he knew that he wasn't being tortured yet, and that was very interesting.

"That's an obvious one, Mr. Spock." Manon answered and began examining a series of medical tools on a tray next to him.

"There are two logical answers. One applies only if you are acting under the direct orders of the Cardassian Union. The other if you are acting in your own interests."

"An excellent point. Which do you think is more likely?"

"There is no need for me to speculate. I have already confirmed the answer." Spock told him, watching as he picked up a particularly cruel-looking item.

"No. You have not." Manon placed the tool back onto the tray and looked at Spock. Waiting. Observing.

Spock decided to do some waiting and observing himself.

"It's strange that you should be so insistent on referring to yourself as Vulcan," Manon noted suddenly, "And on using the Vulcan vernacular so thoroughly. _Logical_. _Illogical_. But you aren't really a Vulcan, are you Mr. Spock?"

"I am." Spock replied, suppressing the doubt that this statement always surfaced in him. Doubt was an emotion. The Cardassian's statements were a ploy - a tactic to break Spock and get him talking.

"Liar," Manon smirked, "That's alright. I enjoy a good lie as much as the next man."

"It is no lie. I am Vulcan." Spock replied.

The statement seemed to catch something, to cause a flicker of recognition in Manon's eyes. Spock had made a mistake that would cost him dearly.

"Did you know that Cardassia has the most advanced genetic research program in both the Alpha and Beta quadrants? While other species can merely affect cosmetic changes to make themselves _look_ like a Romulan or a Klingon, we can make anything _become_ one. Though why you would willingly give up being Cardassian is a mystery to me…"

"A curious subject to discuss." Spock noted, conquering his emotions. Suppressing them as much as he could.

"I could arrange to strip away your mask. Your costume. And make you what you really are." Manon told him, acting as if it were a kindly gift.

Spock did not ask the question he was supposed to. But he didn't need to.

Manon supplied the answer.

"A human."

"An illogical waste of resources. To be Vulcan is not a result of physiology or genetics. It is a mastery of Surakian principles. A state of mind." Spock informed him. All of a sudden, he found himself skating on thin ice. His control had disappeared. His confidence in his ability to master the situation lessened.

"But you have not mastered Surakian principles. You do not have a Vulcan state of mind."

Spock elected not to respond. He was considering attempting to achieve a state of meditation again, but the Cardassian would likely recognize such an attempt. And if he pulled Spock out of the technique a second time, it would only make things worse.

"I'm so rude," Manon seemed to be apologizing, "Here I am going on and on about a subject you don't want to discuss. Forgive me."

Spock waited for it, because he knew it was coming.

"Perhaps we ought to talk about the Narada instead?"

* * *

The force field disruptor was done. Kirk could hardly believe that Bones had managed to follow his half-mumbled instructions, but he had. And now he held a small device that looked a little like a mechanical butterfly in his hands.

"How does it work?" McCoy asked, looking at the seemingly open doorway.

"This kind has to go inside the force field." Kirk explained. He was beginning to get a lot of his strength back, which was a good sign. But he still felt pretty gross, and even though the numbness was subsiding, it hadn't disappeared completely.

McCoy seemed suddenly disheartened.

"What did you just say?" He asked.

"It's simple. But it only works for a few seconds. Stand up." Kirk ordered, and McCoy did as he was told with a sceptical expression on his face.

"Got your hypospray?"

"Yeah…" Bones answered carefully. Kirk had instructed him to fill a hypo with whatever he had in his bag that could knock a person out cold. Originally, the doctor had presumed that it had something to do with the disruptor. Now he was having his doubts.

"Okay. When I say go, you go." Kirk said, sliding along the floor towards the force field.

"Go where? What?!" McCoy was beginning to panic.

Kirk switched on the makeshift disruptor. It began to make a faint whirring sound.

"Ready?" He asked.

"No!"

Regardless, Kirk jammed his still-numb right arm directly into the force field, holding his device. There was a crackling sound, and the smell of burning skin. The force field sputtered then, and the orange bolts of energy that indicated it's presence shut off.

"Go! Go! Go!" The captain shouted.

McCoy just reacted. He ran over the threshold and into the empty corridor.

Kirk withdrew his hand and the device, a red ring marking his wrist. The force field reactivated, but Bones was outside of it. Kirk smiled triumphantly.

"Damn it, Jim! I didn't know that _I _was the one escaping!" McCoy hissed.

"What? You thought I was going to let you stick your hand in a force field? That would make me a terrible captain. Now, go single-handedly defeat the Cardassians. Try to find Spock, too. He's really strong." The pain from the burn was causing Kirk to sweat. He'd figured that if he used his gimpy arm, he wouldn't feel it so much. Turns out, he was wrong.

"My bag's got a protoplaser in it. Rummage around 'til you find it. It's got a blue stripe and it says _anabolic protoplaser _on it. You can't miss it. Activate it and run the beam along the burn. Looks like it goes pretty deep. That oughta cool down the sensation and fix up the subcutaneous damage." McCoy instructed.

"It's rude to rummage through a lady's purse." Kirk observed dazedly.

"Damn it! Now's not the time to…"

"You gotta go. Guards'll be back soon. Bye Bones!" Kirk waved goodbye and grabbed the bag, following his instructions.

Bones hesitated for a second and then ducked out of the detention center door, into the hallways of the Cardassian ship.


	8. Chapter 8

The guard appeared at the door of the cell and looked inside. Kirk was leaning against the back wall across from him, smiling like the Cheshire cat. Beside him was the doctor's bag. The guard looked around the rest of the cell. The bag was there. But the doctor was gone.

"Where's he hiding?" He asked Kirk, apparently in no mood for foolish tricks.

"Anywhere by now. It's a pretty big ship." The human replied in a jolly sort of way.

"You don't seem as disoriented as you did during my last patrol. The medical treatment you've received has improved your situation?" The guard kept looking around while he spoke. Peering at the shadows, angling his head so that he could see under the beds.

"Yep. But I'm still having a little trouble moving around. And I got a nasty force field burn." Kirk watched the guard with some amusement.

"I won't fall for this," The Cardassian shook his head, "Doctor! Show yourself!"

"Fall for what?" Kirk was curious.

"This ploy of yours. You're trying to trick me into opening the force field, to ensure the doctor's absence. You want me to believe that you're still relatively incapacitated. Your bad leg and so forth. I come in, the doctor springs out of hiding, the two of you beat me up and escape," The guard shook his head again, "It's not going to happen."

"You're way off. The doctor's already escaped. You should alert the other security officers, or sound the alarm or something. He's armed." Kirk suggested, stretching his arms over his head and then relaxing. It was good to get feeling back in limbs, even if the burn was still a little achy.

"Armed?" The guard scoffed, "All you guys had was a bag of fundamental medical supplies. We scanned it three times. What's he got? A level one laser scalpel? Oh no! Somebody's in for a nasty scratch!"

"You are a terrible guard." Kirk shook his head disappointedly.

"I would be, if the doctor had indeed escaped," He seemed to be trying to look at the ceiling inside the cell, "But since he hasn't, I'm not."

"He _has_ escaped. Dr. McCoy has totally escaped. He's got a hypospray full of a heavy anaesthetic and orders to attempt to take over your vessel." Kirk said emphatically.

"Fine. Whatever. You want to be funny. I can appreciate that, you've had a horrible day. I'm going to leave, and I'll be back for my next patrol in ten minutes. And when I get back, I expect to see the doctor sitting on his bed like usual. Understood?" The Cardassian said sternly.

"But… he's escaped."

"Ten minutes!"

And the guard left.

* * *

It occurred to Spock that Gul Manon was beginning the first stage of a technique used to undermine the mental stability of prisoners. First, Manon had established his own benevolence. Leaving threats unfulfilled, feigning a respect for Spock and a sympathy for the Vulcan people. Making himself out to be not such a bad guy. Projecting a very specific idea: that telling him what he wanted to know would be less of a danger than telling someone else.

Now he was moving on. Having established his character, it was time to annihilate Spock's free will. The process generally started with undermining the prisoner's sense of self. Quietly denying every fact and belief that Spock held to be true. Everything at the core of what made him an individual. To weaken his resolve and consume him with doubt. It would be a logical technique, if the prisoner was not Vulcan.

And Spock knew that he was Vulcan.

But he seemed to be forgetting.

"I'd like to know a little bit about the Narada." Manon said, after another lengthy silence. Every now and then, the conversation would drift away from the subject. But it always returned there.

"I am aware that you would." Spock said.

No break, but the cracks were starting to show.

"Fine. Let's talk more about you, shall we?" Manon sighed.

Spock noticed that the gul had been standing the entire time. Leaning against things every now and then, but never sitting down.

"Why not use the chair to your left?"

"Thank you, no," Manon answered, reverting to his eerie politeness, "Tell me, do you enjoy being a Starfleet officer?"

"I do not enjoy. Nor do I have aversions." Spock had to say it. To remind himself as much as correct his interrogator. Perhaps it was a mistake, another opportunity for his weaknesses to show. But he would rather show his weaknesses than succumb to them.

"Because a true Vulcan has no preferences? Is that what you want others to believe of you?" Manon's voice was dripping with sympathy, "And yet, you're not a member of the Academy of Science. That's the logical institution for a Vulcan interested in space exploration to join. Isn't it? So, why aren't you a member?"

Spock did not answer.

"Your perception has become your reality, Mr. Spock. But it is not the truth. You're not who you think you are."

"And you wish to inform me of my true identity?" Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what your true identity is," The Cardassian shrugged, "But if you do not act like a Vulcan, you do not think like a Vulcan, and you do not follow Vulcan paths, at the very least I know that you're not a Vulcan. It's all quite logical."

Spock waited.

"Oh, you look like a Vulcan. But so do Romulans," Manon smiled, "And, I believe I've heard somewhere that being Vulcan has next to nothing to do with physiology. Isn't that correct?"

Spock did not speak.

The atmosphere in the room changed. It was time to ask about the Narada again.

"Would you care to tell me about…"

"No."

Spock stood up, and began pacing around the room. Examining the various devices and instruments that lay on top of counters and trays. Perhaps there would be a few more attacks on his racial identity, perhaps an attempt to question his loyalty to Starfleet. A dissection of Federation ideals confirming their inherent flaws. But he would withstand it all.

Even if he knew he was not really a Vulcan.

One of the computer system's low, hollow beeps sounded and Spock watched as Manon approached the touch-screen panel next to the door. He pressed down on it lightly.

"Medical bay." He said, glancing briefly at Spock.

"Gul Manon, you are required on the bridge." A voice replied.

"Can it wait? I'm having an important conversation with one of the humans."

Spock tried not to react to the statement. He was well aware of its intended purpose.

"It concerns the data exchange with the Enterprise."

"Very well. I'll be there shortly." Manon seemed displeased, shutting off the com-link.

"To what data exchange does your officer refer?" Spock enquired evenly.

"Oh, nothing. While you've been in here, and indeed a little bit before all of this, Mr. Scott began giving us the entire contents of your ship's archives. Quite amusing, really," Manon activated the doors, "If you'll forgive the interruption, Mr. Spock."

* * *

Dr. McCoy was terrified.

He was all by himself, an escaped prisoner wandering around a hostile alien vessel with no idea where the hell he was going. And the only thing he had to protect himself was a hypospray full of neurozine and his wits. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, the hair was standing up on the back of his neck. He kept hearing voices chatting in the corridors, and he couldn't quite tell how far or how near they were. He ducked into open doorways and hid in long, dark shadows as Cardassians walked past. Being as still as he could be, and hoping like hell that they didn't notice him.

So far, he'd been lucky.

He found himself in a room full of computer stations, and counted his blessings that it was empty. Anywhere with that many stations on the Enterprise would likely be crawling with people. Then again, it could be a cartography room or something. Which meant that the staff who manned it were probably on break, or put on another station for some reason. Whatever the reason, the stations were unmanned and McCoy was determined to use that to his advantage. He snuck up to the center console and examined it. A black screen was covered in constantly-changing gold coloured text. Lines of compact, rectangular symbols and small round dots darting around on the screen, seeming to read both vertically and horizontally as they criss-crossed over each other. Down in the bottom corner were two circle-shapes that seemed to be keeping count of something.

"What the hell am I lookin' at?" McCoy demanded quietly. It was pretty, but that was about all he could say for it.

He looked around the empty room, contemplating his options. He was not a natural saboteur, and the nature of the Cardassian language and station lay-outs offered no obvious hints regarding their purpose. He could rip out a handful of wires, but there was no telling what that would do. It could shut down life-support or just mess with the replicators. Neither did anything to help the situation. If only he could find their communicators and Spock's bag of phasers. Then he could contact the Enterprise. And shoot things.

Oh, what a man with power like that could accomplish.

He stopped trying to read an impossibly complex alien writing system and looked towards the hallway. He could hear voices, and then footsteps. Quickly, he ducked behind one of the taller consoles. If nobody was looking for him, they wouldn't see him. But McCoy didn't know whether or not they were looking for him. He'd escaped about fifteen minutes ago. Word had to have gotten around by then.

Still, he hadn't heard any shipwide announcements. It wasn't the only way to deliver a message, but the Cardassians seemed to use a communication system fairly similar to the Federation's. All he could do was keep still and hope.

Two girls walked into the room. Unlike Federation uniforms, there were no distinguishable differences between what men and women wore in the Cardassian military. They didn't notice McCoy at all, they just approached the stations and began to work and chat.

"They're definitely stalling." One of them said.

"Looks like Nomar was right. I'd better call up the…" She turned around and found herself face to face with Dr. McCoy. He quickly injected the neurozine into her neck, and she fell limp against him. Her friend turned around and looked at him with fear in her eyes.

Nobody had ever been so scared of him before. And he was a doctor. People were terrified of doctors. McCoy gently put his hands out to try and prevent her from screaming or pulling a phaser.

"I don't want to hurt you, lady. But I am gonna have to anaesthetise you."

The Cardassian officer ran towards a computer panel on the wall. McCoy dashed ahead of her and injected her with the hypospray.

No handheld communicators. Good to know.

He lowered the second unconscious girl he'd held that day onto the floor not too far from the first. He didn't feel terribly heroic about any of it, so he just kind of snuck out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

As Glinn Nomar sat at his bridge station and reviewed the information transfer, his mouth drew into a thin, hard line. He found it hard to believe that the humans could be so _brazen_. It was like watching a four year-old trying to plat Kotra with an old master. A slow four year-old. Did they think that they were being clever? That no one would notice what they were doing? It was so obvious.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Gul Manon asked icily as he entered the bridge. Everyone knew that Manon had spent his formative years working as an Interrogator for the state. It stood to reason that he would be disappointed at the interruption. And he was. The whole bridge could tell.

"The Federation vessel is sending us their databanks at 73% the required speed," Nomar explained, displaying the information to his commanding officer, "And what they are sending is clearly a foolish attempt to buy time."

The executive officer's monitor began to scroll through pages and pages of children's books. As Manon watched all of it fall along the screen, he seemed to become more exasperated. This was obviously not the day he had been planning.

"Why the hell would they stall?" Nomar shook his head, "We have their captain. And they can't contact any of their starbases or outposts, the dampening field's up and functioning at full capacity."

"Optimism gives the Federation a heightened sense of bravado. Don't take it so personally." Manon explained and made his way to his command post. He sat in his chair and managed to turn himself into a completely different person. His shoulders relaxed, his edges softened. He smiled.

It seemed uncannily genuine.

"Open the channel."

The communications officer did as he was told. By the time the Enterprise bridge appeared on their view-screen, Manon was holding a padd in his hand and reading. A friendly expression on his face.

"It's all very enlightening," He said, glancing up at Mr. Scott, "At first, the poky little puppy's independence is rewarded, but his gluttony promises to bring his downfall."

Scotty seemed dumbstruck by this statement, staring at the Cardassian bridge with a slightly horrified kind of surprise. He was beginning to look a little worn down, but still defiant and firm.

"Ah'm glad yer enjoying it?" He said.

It was obvious to the Cardassians that the helmsman was trying not to laugh.

"On Cardassia we say that the true measure of a man is not what he says and does, but how he educates his children. These files offer us an uncanny glimpse into your ways," Manon put the padd aside, "However, I would prefer it if you sent us something a little more substantial. Perhaps a list of all your constitution-class starships and their current locations?"

Scotty seemed hesitant.

"Alright," He said slowly and nodded, "But in exchange…" "In exchange I do not fire upon your vessel. I expect the list within the next twenty minutes." Manon informed him and switched the channel off. He sighed deeply and with great disdain.

"Sir…" One of the tactical officers began carefully, "You neglected to demand that they increase transfer speed."

"In order for the requested files to arrive within the given time limit, they will have to increase transfer speed to 100%." Manon looked at the officer with complete disbelief. He shook his head. No wonder the future of the Union was in jeopardy. Everyone under thirty was as dumb as a bag of rocks.

* * *

"Um, Scotty?" Sulu said, as though he'd broken something very expensive.

"Here's what we'll do," Scotty said, standing up and pacing a little as he thought, "We'll pad the hell out o' that list. We'll just make ships up. Lt. Uhura, start by adding the USS Montgomery. Say it's on patrol out by Rigel X or something and make it look convincing…"

"I want to be the USS Chekov-is-Awesome."

"Scotty?" Sulu tried again, waving at the acting captain. He was visibly concerned.

"Don't worry. You'll get a ship. Just like everybody else on this damn bridge." Scotty mumbled, wondering if there already was a USS Marlena. It sounded kind of familiar.

"Thanks, but that's not the problem," Sulu replied, "There's no way we can get anything over to the Kornaire in under twenty minutes. The viral upsurge is slowing our transfer speed by about 27%."

"Oh? My, that's interesting." Scotty said in a purposefully cheerfully voice, as he sat back down. Everybody was pretty sure he was finally going to have his enormous meltdown.

"Maybe…" Uhura said and caught herself for a moment. Half a dozen expectant pairs of eyes turned to look at her, so she went on, "Maybe we could send the list through the direct channel instead of transferring it with the other information."

"Would that work?" Scotty asked the boys at the front of the bridge.

"It would get the list there on time…" Chekov nodded.

"But…?" Scotty sighed. Nothing was simple. Ever.

"But it would look wery suspicious."

"It'd be great to have a man on the inside," Sulu added, "Do you think it would be too dangerous to beam somebody over there?"

Everybody waited for him to quietly go over what he had just asked.

"So. That's a yes." He decided.

* * *

Dr. McCoy was really starting to get nervous. He figured that after a good jaunt sneaking around like some kind of super-spy, he would begin to feel the part. It didn't happen. He was also pretty sure that if the Cardassians caught him, they'd shoot a hole clean through him without blinking. The more trouble a person caused, the less they were missed aboard the Kornaire. And he knew damn well that he was considered their least valuable hostage. He'd figured it out when one of them said:

"You know, Doctor, you're our least valuable hostage."

Find Spock, Jim had said. Single-handedly take over the ship, the captain had ordered. How was he supposed to do that? He didn't know the layout of the ship and it turned out that he couldn't read Cardassian. That wasn't a surprise so much as an inconvenience. McCoy looked carefully down a long corridor. All of the doors along it seemed to be closed and nobody was there. As quietly as he could, he sprinted down to the end and flattened against the wall. If anybody came out of one of those doors, his game was up. He listened for voices or footfalls and then ducked around the corner.

He found himself looking at a short, fat Cardassian who seemed vaguely amused.

"Don't move!" McCoy whispered sharply, and held the hypospray as menacingly as he could. He felt distinctly like an idiot.

"Marvellous!" The Cardassian smiled, "What's in there? A combination of selenium and rhodium nitrite, perhaps? The Rudellian plague virus?"

"You a doctor?" McCoy asked, watching the Cardassian carefully.

"Yes. And you must be the human physician our esteemed gul has taken prisoner. I must say, for all of our differences, our hypos look fairly identical." The strange doctor wouldn't have seemed out of place with a glass of champagne in his hand, milling around during an intermission at the opera. It was hard to believe that he took anything seriously.

"Our wounded Vulcan officer. Did you treat him?"

"Indeed I did."

"Where is he?" McCoy demanded sharply.

"In the procedure room of the medical bay undergoing interrogation. He's in fine physical shape. It would be ethically reprehensible for me to allow the interrogation to occur if he wasn't." The Cardassian doctor explained. McCoy decided to leave that whole mess alone. Now was hardly the time for a Hippocratic debate. What he needed were directions.

"Take me to the procedure room without any trouble, or I'll pump you full of trilithium resin." McCoy bluffed.

The Cardassian doctor looked at him for a few blank seconds before doubling over with hysterical laughter. He wiped a tear away from his eye.

"That would result in an itchy rash at the injection sight," He sighed, "A very itchy rash indeed. Does your species _die _from trilithium resin?"

"It's not trilithium resin. It's neurozine." McCoy confessed, silently cursing himself and wishing that there was a guide to comparative physiology that had information about this sort of thing. Besides, what did he know about threatening hostages? He hadn't even moved the conversation out of the middle of the hallway yet.

"Oh. That's not such a bad idea. You don't have to lie about it," The Cardassian said sympathetically. He paused, and thought about something, "If you were to find your Vulcan friend…"

"I wouldn't characterize him as a friend." McCoy interrupted.

"Good! Good. I don't think humans are quite so different from Cardassians, necessarily," The doctor smiled a sly smile, "If you were to find your Vulcan shipmate, what would you attempt to accomplish?"

"I just want to get my crewmates and get the hell out of here. Now, are you gonna help me? Or are you gonna take a nap?" Dr. McCoy moved closer and got ready to lunge forward and stab the hypo against his counterpart's neck.

"I'd like to see Manon fail. It would suit me immensely," The Cardassian nodded, "If you go down this hallway, it's the fifth door on your left. The Vulcan is being held by an electronic cuff, but you'll be able to disable it if you apply the fourth setting of my tri-laser connector to it. Now, if you'd be so kind as to inject me with that neurozine? It'll help establish my loyalties, you see. Oh! And the fourth drawer at the main medical station has some hypospray vials of various strength anaesthetics. Just in case you need to reload."

McCoy could hardly believe his ears. He began questioning the truthfulness of the doctor's statements. To mentally calculate the likelihood of his opening the fifth door on the left and finding six or seven guards ready and waiting to pump him full of phaser beams.

"I'd also appreciate it if you could kill Glinn Nomar. He's quite popular, and it would reflect very badly on Manon were he to die."

"Got it." McCoy nodded and knocked the Cardassian out. He hurried down the hall on his way to free Spock.


	10. Chapter 10

"Jim versus the force field. Round three." Kirk announced, and stretched his hands like a maestro sitting down in front of a piano. He carefully lifted the loosened electronics panel off of the wall, and looked at a clean and orderly assortment of wires. Everything seemed to be labelled, and in the correct place. Kirk couldn't help but think of Scotty's organizational skills. You either knew where things were or you didn't, and he wasn't about to _label_ things so that people who weren't meant to fiddle around thought that they could. Apparently, the Cardassian engineers saw things a little differently.

He examined the guts of the force field and tried his best to figure out how the hook-ups related to the emitters. There was no guarantee that the system resembled Federation technology in any way. Still, Kirk knew that he had to try. He could only dupe the guards so many times before they began hunting Bones. Kirk reached forward and pulled out three of the wires. There was a quick singe of pain in his fingertips, and he quickly shook his hand and put them against his lips. He glanced over at the open doorway that contained the force field. It flickered with bursts of orange electricity, but it was still functioning. Rather than risk another nasty burn, Kirk pulled a big piece of what was left of McCoy's bicorder out of the equipment bag and threw it towards the hallway.

It ricocheted back towards him with a loud buzz, and he ducked to avoid getting hit in the face. There was a loud clang as it hit the back wall.

"What are you doing in there?" The guard's voice demanded, as the doors opened and he walked over to Kirk's cell.

"Me?" Kirk smiled, "I'm just testing the force field's integrity. I'm trying to disable it so that I can help take over your ship. It's not good for a captain to just sit on his ass, you know."

The Cardassian gave him a sceptical, appraising look. It was a very strange situation to him. Prisoners lied. All of the time. It was part of being incarcerated, you just started to lie in an attempt to gain your freedom. The human couldn't possibly be different. Nobody in their right mind would tell the truth about escape attempts and subterfuges. But…

"Where is Dr. McCoy?" The guard asked, rather cheerfully, peeking inside the cell.

"I don't know anymore. You were gone for more than ten minutes, by the way." Kirk said in a silly, scolding kind of voice while he wagged his finger.

"I had orders to attend to," The guard shrugged, "Your ship is paying your ransom."

"What ransom?" Kirk asked. Surely the Enterprise wouldn't give away anything dangerous, and if it was money the Cardassians were after, they were out of luck.

"Where's the doctor?" The guard countered.

"Tell me about the ransom."

"You're making demands? You're in a detention cell. Your entire ship thinks that we can kill them with the press of a button. You have no authority and no power." The guard scoffed.

Kirk looked at him for awhile. He still maintained that you could tell a lot about people by what they drank. And now he knew that Cardassians drank poisoned kanar, as well as regular kanar, but the poison really gave them away.

"I still have one card left to play."

"What _card_ would that be, Captain?"

"I know, for a fact, whether or not the doctor has escaped. And you need that information," Kirk smiled, "Hey, do you guys kill failures? Or just eject them from military service? I don't know a hell of a lot about your culture."

* * *

McCoy held his breath as he opened the fifth door on the left. He was relieved when he found himself looking at a medical bay, and Spock. Who was sitting cross-legged on top of a biobed, his hands tented and his eyes closed. Quietly, McCoy stepped over the high threshold and into the room. He closed the door behind himself and looked around tentatively.

"Spock?" He whispered, "Are you alone?"

Spock's eyes opened and he looked silently upon his crewmate. He nodded.

"Good," McCoy sighed, letting his voice take it's normal volume, "I've been running around this damn ship like a fox lookin' for the henhouse. How are you?"

Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow at McCoy.

"That is to say, I heard you were being interrogated. Did it mess you up?"

"I will be able to assist you," Spock answered evenly, "Where is Captain Kirk?"

"Under lock and key two floors down from here…" McCoy explained his escape and adventures thus far, while Spock sat and listened. He remained silent the entire time.

There seemed to be something strange about the atmosphere around Spock. As though he simply didn't care about anything McCoy was saying. Like he was trapped in a bubble of indifference? Had the Cardassians got to him? Promised him something? It would be easy to betray humans if you weren't human. Maybe the Union could provide Vulcan II with resources, information, and technology. Maybe it all made sense in that cold, logical brain of his.

He waited for Spock to respond to his story. But the Vulcan didn't speak. He didn't even blink. He sat and waited, seeming to wait for something relevant to come out of McCoy's mouth. Like what had been said so far was unimportant to him.

"Don't you care about anything, you green-blooded son of a bitch?" McCoy grumbled, and Spock tilted his head to one side, "I'm telling you we're in trouble. The Enterprise is in trouble. Jim's in trouble. But you wouldn't care about that, would you? Because you don't have a single common, decent human feeling in that alien heart of yours. Do you, _Mr. _Spock?"

"Thank you for reminding me, Doctor," Spock stood up and straightened his uniform, "We will need to contact Mr. Scott. You will return to the detention area and release the captain from detainment. I would go myself, but I am confined by this device." He motioned towards the ankle restraint.

"Right! I can get that off!" McCoy snapped his fingers and began looking for the tri-laser connector. He presumed that since Federation hypos looked like Cardassian hypos, then there shouldn't be too much difference in other simple tools. Thankfully, he was right.

Spock watched as McCoy opened and closed drawers, shuffling around a medical bay that wasn't his, but acting like he owned the place. Dr. McCoy was a very good example of what it was to be human. And Spock knew that he had next to nothing in common with the man. It refreshed his viewpoint, and reminded him of who he was. Who he had always been.

"I didn't have much luck with the computer system," McCoy said, setting the connector to maximum power, "I don't suppose you're any good with deciphering hieroglyphs?"

"Did you recognize the writing system as logographic?" Spock enquired as McCoy applied the device to his restraint. The cuff fell to the floor. Despite the lack of physical weight to the device, its removal seemed to lighten Spock. He couldn't explain it.

"Uh…" McCoy considered the question, "Not particularly. I just couldn't read it."

No need to mention that he was guessing what _logographic_ meant from context. Which wasn't fair, by the way. He never threw around fancy medical terminology. On purpose.

"It is unfortunate that we do not have Lt. Uhura with us to help decipher the Cardassian language." Spock mused, making his way to the nearest computer station.

McCoy decided to leave _that_ mess alone as well. He wasn't one of those people who could employ stupid high school humour when everyone's lives were in jeopardy. That was Jim's department.

"Fascinating." Spock decided, and began to press buttons.

Cardassian appeared to be phonetic, contrary to the doctor's speculations. That actually made things a little trickier - not only would he have to decipher the letters to their corresponding sounds, he would have to translate the combinations of those sounds into a language he understood. Spock was confident that he could, indeed, do that. But he would need somewhere around five days before it yielded any useful results. No, he was going to have to try something a little more dangerous.

"Computer?" He enquired.

The computer answered in an unfamiliar word and a smooth, masculine voice.

"Translate all display screens in the medical bay into the Vulcan language." Spock was speaking in said language. He had not done so since he had joined Starfleet Academy. But the likelihood of the Cardassians having a greater familiarity with Vulcan than with the Human language was high, and he wanted to increase his chances of gaining access as much as he could.

The computer beeped rather angrily and said something else in Cardassian.

"I guess that means _unable to process your request_," McCoy shrugged, "Still, it was a good…"

"Repeat. In Vulcan." Spock demanded of the console, completely ignoring Bones.

"Clearance authorization is required to affect this change." The computer told him. It's Vulcan was heavily accented.

"Can you tell me what is currently displayed on this screen?"

All of this was making McCoy feel left out. He didn't speak Vulcan or Cardassian and he had no idea what anybody was saying. So he decided to wander around the medical bay, reload his hypospray and maybe steal a new purse. Equipment bag. Damn it.

"This is the standard medical program. It can display life signs, scans and other information received from several devices in the medical bay. Access is restricted."

"Can I access other systems from this station?"

"You require level three clearance codes to do so." Somebody else could access whatever they wanted, but Spock couldn't. He was obviously some kind of saboteur.

"Here," McCoy handed him a large hypo loaded with something blue, "Shoot it into the base of the neck. Try to do it as little as possible, you might kill somebody."

Spock glanced at the hypospray and put it down on the table. If he could get close enough to shoot somebody with a hypo, he could get close enough to nerve pinch them. That was faster, cleaner and safer.

"Are there any areas that I am currently allowed access to?" Spock asked the computer.

The screen of the medical station changed. It displayed an elderly Cardassian gentleman sitting at a desk with the symbol of the Union behind him. He was smiling.

"Greetings prisoners of Cardassia! You have attempted to access our computer systems, which was a very foolish decision. The doors to your current location have been sealed, and security personnel have been informed of your activity. No doubt several guards have been dispatched and are on their way to vaporize you. We are all very glad that you may realize the strength of Cardassia and its wisdom before you die. Please enjoy whatever backwater version of the afterlife you believe in."

And the screen reverted to its previous display.

"Son of a bitch." McCoy observed.

* * *

"Sir?" One of the bridge officers addressed Manon, "Security reports that unauthorized access to the system has been attempted in the medical bay."

"Mr. Spock must be regaining some of his confidence," Manon grumbled. It was so difficult the whittle away at the Vulcan mind. You had to bombard them at a very constant rate, "Nomar, take a few guards and investigate. Under no circumstances is anyone to speak directly to the prisoner, understood?"

"Yes, of course." Nomar nodded, stood from his station and left the bridge.

* * *

"You must calm yourself." Spock instructed.

"Goddamn it! Didn't you hear the part about vaporizing us?!" McCoy was livid and ranting. He kept throwing his hands up and walking back and forth along the same stretch of floor.

"That is not the logical outcome. The message was pre-programmed," The science officer explained, "I am supposed to be alone. It will be considered likely that I would try to access the computer system. They will not be expecting your presence, even if they are aware of your escape. Though you have stated that you believe that they are not. We have an advantage over them."


End file.
